When Two Become One
by imsherlylocked
Summary: Sherlock seeks Molly's help, and, even in spite of her feelings, she agrees to help him. But when he starts to show signs of feelings for her, how will their relationship cope? Rated M for explicit content, and later violence with the return of Moriarty.
1. Chapter 1

When Two Become One

**_I do not own any of the characters in this story; they all belong to the BBC and the brilliants writers Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffatt and of course, . Read and reply, rated M for later chapters. Lots of fluffiness and slash, and eventual pairing. Enjoy!_**

Chapter 1

The light outside started to fade slowly, and Molly realised it was nearing the end of her shift at St Bart's Hospital. She gathered her things, slowly done the buttons up on her coat, swung her bag over her shoulder and made for the door.

"'You're wrong you know," said a familiar voice from the eerie shadows. Molly squeaked involuntarily and turned around to face the tall figure. She watched him carefully, eyes drinking in his blissful sight.

"You do count; you've always counted and I've always trusted you," he hesitated, and turned to face her. "But you were right, I'm not okay."

Molly felt a surge of... boldness? Whatever it was, it managed to overcome the anxious feeling in her stomach and made her reply. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Molly, I think I'm going to die." Sherlock said those words so coldly and bleakly, it made Molly's whole body tremble

"What do you need?"

"If I wasn't everything that you think I am, everything that I think I am; would you still want to help me?" Molly thought she saw a genuine look of fear creep over Sherlock's face, but she soon remembered that he doesn't show emotion.

She repeated her last question strongly. "What do you need?"

Sherlock took a few tantalisingly small steps forward, so that his body was close to hers, and she could feel the radiating heat pulsating from his body. That's when he said the one word which caused Molly's mouth to run dry.

"You."

Molly waited in the cold lab, waiting for Sherlock's limp body to appear around the corner on a stretcher. Suddenly, the doors swung open and Sherlock strode in, acting as if nothing had happened.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Molly almost screamed.

"I'm coming to thank you, why? Is that a problem?" Sherlock replied blandly.

"No, well... Look, Sherlock, you've just committed suicide. You need to lie low for a while, until you can figure out what to do. Actually, where are you going to stay?" Molly inquired.

"Well, Molly," Sherlock averted his gaze from the wall to look into her eyes, "I was wondering if I could stay with you. I would contact my brother, but he would make too much of a fuss, plus it's a risk that I do not wish to take just yet."

"I-I um," Molly stuttered, but soon regained control, "I'm sure that would be okay, but I have to warn you, my flat is a little small, it only has one bed, you can have that if you want and I'll sleep on the sofa. But you don't have any clothes or toiletries, so you'll have to let me know which one you like so I can get them for you. Plus you need to let me know what food you like, what you don't like, and also what-".

Molly was cut off from her ongoing list as Sherlock enveloped her in a gentle hug. He squeezed her lightly, before pulling away. "Thank you, Molly Hooper," he smiled.

Molly blushed like crazy, and turned quickly to grab her bag. "Okay," she said cheerfully, "come with me".

Sherlock followed her tentatively out of the hospital and straight into a cab that Molly had flagged down. He sat next to her, knees occasionally bumped when they went around a corner, or over a bump in the road. Once or twice they made eye contact, but it didn't last longer than a few seconds, Molly couldn't bare the tension.

It had started to rain when they approached Molly's front door, so she hurried to get them both in from the cold.

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked innocently.

"Black, with two sugars, thanks."

Molly put the kettle on, and as she waited for it to boil, she pondered over the events that had occurred that day. Not only had THE Sherlock Holmes asked her for help, but had had also HUGGED her, and was now sitting in her LIVING ROOM. The high shriek of the whistle soon brought her out of her daydream.

"So, have you figured out a plan yet, how you're going to deal with Jim, or at least his assassins?" Molly inquired, sipping her tea.

"Of course," Sherlock replied bluntly.

"Oh, well, that's good then," Molly giggled slightly, and then returned to her tea.

Sherlock's gazed moved from the window to study Molly; the giggle she had just made echoed in his ears and made him smile to himself almost undetectably. From that moment, he started to notice new things about her. He was Sherlock, he never missed anything, how did he miss these details?

He noticed the small clump of freckles under her right eye, how her hair was darker brown at the top of her head than it was at the end of her strands, and how the tip of her ears would go slightly red whenever she smiled to herself.

Molly stood up and reached for Sherlock's cup. "You finished?" Sherlock handed her his cup and their fingered brushed briefly. He noted how she had delicately soft fingers, and wondered if the rest of her body would feel that soft. He shook the idiotic thought from his head and stood up.

"I shall sleep on the sofa tonight, Molly. You have had a... confusing day and deserve a good rest," he declared as Molly appeared from the kitchen. He strode over and hugged her again, softer this time. "Thank you, once again," he whispered.

Molly was too shocked to speak, and only managed a nod against his shoulder. Sherlock pulled back, and Molly felt a wave of coldness spread over her as she lost his body heat. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw, Sherlock lean in. He placed a small, chaste kiss on her cheek, before rearing his head up again.

She couldn't move. It was all getting too much. But she loved it. She wanted more. She wanted to grab his jacket and pull him down to her and kiss him so hard that all of her feelings would flood into him. Or, she could walk away, save herself from being rejected by the world's most gorgeous and unobtainable man.

She had to make a decision. Now.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Sorry that I took a long time to update, been away! Hope you enjoy it..._**

Chapter 2

The warmth that was being emitted by Sherlock became almost unbearable. "You're welcome." She smiled weakly at him, taking a few small paces back, before turning her back to him and scampering off to her room. She shut the door and leaned against it, allowing one small tear to free itself from her eye.

Sherlock was rooted to the spot. He thought Molly would do something. He didn't know what, but it would have been something. Now he was just stood there, staring into nothing, alone.

He sat on the couch and steepled his hands under his chin and thought. He thought about what had just happened with Molly, what it meant, what she might be thinking. It was starting to distract him from developing his plan to break the web that Moriarty had so intricately spun. He pushed these... _feelings _to the back of his head and tried to concentrate.

...

Sherlock was up early and walking down the cool, crisp streets of London. He knew a particularly good cafe where he could buy himself and Molly some breakfast. This would be his last display of his appreciation for her help.

Molly stirred slightly, the light from the window seeping into her bedroom. She flung her legs over the side of the bed and breathed in sharply as her skin came into contact with the cold wood. She fumbled her half unconscious body into the bathroom, where she showered reluctantly.

She let the cool refreshing water cascade over her thin frame, before stepping out and roughly towel drying her hair. She strung it up loosely in a bun and wandered into the kitchen to make herself some coffee. It only registered to her that Sherlock wasn't present when she poured a second cup.

"Sherlock?" she called out into the empty apartment. A nagging voice started to grow louder in her head. _He was just using you. Did you really think he might change? For you? You really are stupid. He doesn't care. He will never care. _She tried desperately to shake the unwelcome thoughts from her head, but it was to no avail.

She sighed heavily and leant over the sink, dropping her head and inhaling deeply though her nose. _Why do I always trust the wrong people? _The steam rose from her cup and started to moisten her cheek with the vapour.

"Am I disturbing you?" Sherlock asked from the doorway.

Molly turned around to face him, her smile widening every second.

"I brought breakfast," Sherlock held up the brown paper bag triumphantly.

"That's very kind of you. I can't stay though; I have work in half an hour." Molly felt a small pang of guilt strike her inside as she said the words.

She joined Sherlock in the front room with their coffees, and ate a bacon sandwich. She gave him a quick smile before disappearing.

...

The morgue was quite for a Tuesday morning, she had logged the body that had been left over from the previous night, and had filed all of the paperwork away. She at her desk and tapped her pen repeatedly on her temple.

"Your hospital really needs to work on its security," came an alluring voice from the shadows.

Molly froze where she was, placing the pen slowly on the desk before spinning round to face the man she had feared would show up.

"J-Jim, what are you d-doing here? You were dead?!" Molly couldn't stop shaking.

"I know honey, but I'm not now. And I'm here to let you into a little secret." A menacing grin spread itself over Moriarty face, illuminating the psychopath within.

Molly gulped but didn't look away. Her eyes were almost glued to his, not daring to move; as if one flicker of fear would make him attack.

"You should stay away from Sherlock, Molly dear. He isn't good for you. He will use you. He will take what he wants and sooner or later," his voice sang the last words, as if mocking her, "he will leave you."

Molly tried to protest, but was cut off by his next statement.

"Put it this way: if you don't leave him, then I will find him. And I will stay true to my word Molly. I _will _burn him." He giggled a little at himself, as if amused by his thoughts, before sauntering out of the morgue.

"Choose wisely, Molly!" he called after her, before the door shut and the lab was plunged into a deafening silence, the tension unbearable.

...

Molly returned to her flat to find it in a mess; paper all over the floor, several liquid dripping off the kitchen surfaces, and various items of clothing flung over the furniture.

"Sherlock!" Molly screamed.

"Yes?" he appeared from behind the armchair.

"What. Is. This?" She punctuated every word with a new breath.

"It's not going to be permanent, Molly. I'm just running a few experiments, that's all. I should be-"

"I don't care what you are doing Sherlock. But this is my apartment, not yours. You are to respect my house and keep it the way you found it. Now, clean this up!" she turned boldly and walked to her room, Sherlock's confused gaze following her.

She shut the door behind her, a little louder than the should have, and exhaled.

She went to grab a comfortable pair of trousers when a figure caught her attention. She went to scream but her throat was dry.

A deep grumble of a laugh came from the corner of her room, and something was twisted around their hands. Molly couldn't move; she was too scared to.

"Jim did warn you. I guess you didn't listen..."

**_Thanks for reading the next chapter, sorry for the long wait! Next chapter up in a week, reply if you want and let me know what you think! Much love xo_**

**AN: If you want me to write a fan story about you, or around a story idea that you have in mind, message me! And I will do it J**


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